Twisted little heart
by blu-waffle
Summary: Oneshot. She was his pleasuure and pain, his night and day, his heaven and hell. His. A 'story' about one Knight and a mysterious girl...his night child.


"Leave him." A sharp voice spoke out into the darkness and the Woad looked up with a malicious snarl. He still held the dagger close to the warrior's neck; the dull moonlight glinting from the gleaming metal of the blade.

He waited; a strong grip in the warrior's hair as held their head backwards so that his glinting dagger could gain more access to the soft flesh on the man's neck. The warrior was breathing shallowly, his eyes closed and his face weary and bloody as he slumped on his knees on the dead undergrowth of the forest floor. A low growl rose slowly from the Woad's throat as he stood leaning down towards the beaten figure, his eyes taking on a steely glare and his mouth rearing back into a sneer as he peered around into the surrounding darkness that encompassed the small pool of chilling moonlight.

Materialising from the darkness, a lithe figure glided out into the Woad's vision. A black dress clung to her body, the fabric shifting gently as she moved yet still retaining its graceful and velvety appearance, hugging her body like a second skin. A black cloak rested around her shoulders, drifting open somewhat as an icy breeze tumbled through the trees and pushed open the midnight fabric. It parted to bare the pale skin of her neck and collarbones; the milky expanse only interrupted by a delicate silver brooch, its intricate ornamentation catching every now and then in the glare of the moonlight. Her hair was as black as the midnight air surrounding them; cascading about her shoulders and curling near the ends in a water-fall like fashion. Icy blue eyes glared out from beneath thick lashes as she stood silently, bathed in the silvery moonlight as some ethereal figure. She held a feline grace about her as she stood simply letting the breeze sweep across her. Her delicate appearance was betrayed by the darkness that swirled within the cool depths of her eyes, and the way her lips pouted menacingly as she glared upon the Woad man with a threatening stare.

The Woad let out a snort as they stood eyeing each other up and he relaxed his grip, if only a little, on the warrior at his knees before him.

"And why would a beautiful creature like you be in a position to threaten me?" He scoffed, his voice full of amusement and malice, perhaps hidden with an undertone of lust.

The woman stayed exactly as she was, but her lip curled slightly as she listened silently to the man's words.

"He is mine." She stated in a dangerously low voice. "He is mine to beat, mine to torture, mine to do as I see fit." She continued, gliding across the broken twigs and dead leaves of the forest floor effortlessly in a gentle slithering gait.

The Woad returned his expression to a callous sneer as he watched her drift towards him, and he tightened his hold on the warrior's hair once again, unwilling to lose his prize. The warrior could just barely sense this new presence but was too exhausted to respond, let alone fend off the Woad and blade pressing into his neck. The Woad, however, assumed a hostile stance and glared defiantly at the soft approaching young woman.

"A mere woman such as you is of no consequence to me." Spat the Woad, baring his teeth at her in a mocking leer. The woman could see the fear in his eyes though and smirked inwardly.

In a whirl of black fabric, the Woad found a slim dagger pressed hard against his own throat and the willowy figure of the young woman stood close behind him.

"And you thought I was just threatening." She whispered, laughter and venom coating her words as the Woad gulped heavily, the dagger pushing hard as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "Now," She said loftily, marvelling at how her dagger shined so vibrantly against the blue skin of the Woad. "You will unhand him."

"And if I don't?" Retorted the man, his heart beating slightly faster in trepidation at the new turn of events.

The figure laughed under her breath then and leaned closer to the man's ear; her warm breath dancing across the side of his head.

"Then I'll just have to kill you. I always get what I want, and right now I want him." She whispered softly, her voice floating gently into the stillness of the night air as she nudged her head towards the bloodied and battered warrior.

The Woad growled deeply in his throat and relaxed under her as if in defeat, before suddenly jerking forwards and attempting to slit the warrior's throat. The woman had been expecting this however, and wasted no time is readily slicing the Woad's throat open with her own ornate dagger and pushing him to the ground. The fountain of blood spurted down his broad expanse of bare chest and onto the dead undergrowth of the ground: red mixing with blue and blood mixing with earth. The woman stared down at the man with pure undisguised disdain in her cold eyes before licking the stray blood from her lip with a slow motion; her tongue gently moving across her deep red bottom lip in search of the sharp tang of the blood. The Woad's skin glowed eerily in the moonlight, matching the woman's eyes as she studied him with swift glances across his body. His clothes were simple pelts of fur bound tightly across his leather breeches with thin strips of leather, very similar to the ones which held his boots in place. He was a strong man, his chest and arms muscled heavily and rippled with old battle scars and wounds. His face was strongly set, his jaw and nose pronounced in a stern manner and his eyes spoke of an underlying authority; well beneath the now glassy gaze they held. His hair was not unlike the warrior's in colour, the woman mused as she swept her gaze back towards the one she sought; both had dark locks. The Woad's were matted and long though, held back into something resembling a pony tail but it was dull and lank whilst the warrior's was made of lustrous curls which crowned his handsome face.

The woman drifted gently across to the warrior in question and crouched beside him. He had fallen forward as the Woad had released his grip as her small dagger had been plunged into his neck, and now the warrior lay still amongst the dead leaves. His striking face was spattered with crimson blood from the cuts on his lips and one stretching from his eyebrow up to a point in his hairline. Purple bruises were already appearing upon his fair face. On anyone else it would have look unflattering, but on this warrior with his distinguished features, soulful eyes that churned like the deluge of an incoming tide and an impish smile that never failed to raise the spirits of those around him, these bruises simply made him look all the more roguish and strangely alluring. His breathing had returned to a more suitable level now that his head was no longer wrenched back to an extreme angle, but still he kept his eyes closed; hiding away those deep brown pools of passion. The woman was satisfied at his renewed state though and shifted towards him through the dirt. A nimble hand reached out and pressed the cool skin against his burning forehead, triggering a soft moan from the warrior, before inching up his darkened skin to brush a few damp curls from his face.

It was then that he decided to open his eyes and the young woman shifted her gaze down to meet his intense, if not weary, stare. His eyes seemingly held such an unbridled passion that the woman nearly laughed aloud in indulgent pleasure. He wearily took her in, his eyes flitting restlessly across her kneeling figure, lingering in some places more than others before he gave an appreciative smirk at her; wincing slightly from his injuries, and resting his eyes back on her face. And what a face it was, full of a beauty unlike any other the warrior had known; her porcelain skin, enticing icy blue eyes, sensuous pouting lips and sculpted cheekbones encircled by her swathe of thick and raven curls, but all that had an dark intent to them. This woman was wicked, every single inch of her was nefarious, evil and cruel, and the warrior couldn't help but feel the passion rising from within him. She was no delicate flower, she was not afraid to use force to get what she wanted as she had shown him various times before, and the passion she held underneath that quiet and feline exterior of hers was…mind-blowing.

He licked his lips in search of moisture and tore his gaze away from her as he turned his head to the right to see the unmoving body of the Woad captor. Twisting back to face her, he raised an elegant eyebrow and gave her an enquiring look. She merely offered an indulgent smirk as she gazed at him from beneath her thick lashes and the warrior couldn't suppress a smirk from gracing his own cracked lips.

Without warning he felt the young temptress' hands upon his armour, lifting him up gently to a standing position. It took a small time with much hissing of pain and dizziness as the proud warrior felt out the new wounds inflicted upon him from the recent battle. The woman was patient though, watching him intently and bracing him against her lithe body as he slung an arm about her slender shoulders.

No words were spoken as she started to lead him away, back into the oblivion of the forest and all the while him leaning on her. He did not fear letting his guard down with this woman. He knew her well, he had learnt to let her see his true-self; she was the one who had broken him so she was the one who would see him. He wheezed as they faltered through the darkness and the young woman paused every once in a while to let him catch his breath and rest on a tree before coaxing him onwards once more.

Her hands were softly guiding him; so much different from the many times before when she would claw at his skin, raking her nails down his bare back and tracing the outlines of his muscles as they rippled. He could see her watching him from the corner of his eye, her glacial depths sparkling when a stray beam of moonlight hit her and bathed her in a wraithlike aura. A warm, calloused hand sought out her lissom one and grasped it where it rested upon his armour, both still trailing through the undergrowth in search of the woman's hut.

The moonlight pooled through another opening in the canopy as they reached her small hut. The soothing sound of water echoed in the air and the warrior sighed in relief as he recognised the familiar grouping of rocks; water cascading over them and into the cool pool beneath. The young woman caught him looking and smirked as she walked him over to it and sat him down to rest against a rock.

He watched lazily, but still with intrigue, as she undid the brooch across her chest and pushed the cloak from her shoulders in a flush movement' leaving the cloak in a pile of black silk as she stalked towards him. Her hands danced nimbly over his blood-encrusted armour and she glanced up at him as she snapped open the breastplate and removed it from his chest. Her hair hung in front of her like a curtain but he could still see her eyes watching him as she set the armour on the floor and shifted closer to him.

"You came for me." He whispered huskily as she leant into him so that she could reach the back of his bloodied tunic, tugging on it gently as he tilted forwards to rest upon her shoulder as she raised the sodden fabric above his head and dropped it to one side.

The mistress gave him a seductive glance as she gently pushed him backward against the rock once more; her warm hands dancing across his bare skin. He watched her silently through heavy-cast eyelids as she knelt before him and began unlacing the ties of his chausses and removing them delicately and placing them upon the growing pile of his bloodied and dirty garments. She was silent as she raised herself upon her knees and leant towards him once again, her hair brushing lightly over the bare skin of his taut and muscled chest causing him to close his eyes, her breath tickling his ear and causing him to groan and move his head towards her.

"Will I not always come? As you will come for me when I call?" She replied in a bare whisper and drew her head away just as the warrior's lips brushed her own.

He growled in frustration and opened his eyes to find her smiling at him teasingly from behind her wave of loose raven curls, gasping as her fingers found the laces to his breeches. He watched her with a regained intensity as lust swallowed his deep brown irises and he relaxed back against the coolness of the grating stone behind him. His face was completely clouded with desire as he endured her torturous teasing by taking her time in unlacing his breeches and ridding him of his heavy leather boots. Slipping the filthy, heavy material down across his hips and over the tired muscles of his thighs coaxed a muted sigh from the exhausted warrior and his let his head roll back in ecstasy; simply suffering the sensation of her slender fingers tracing the tendons and tense muscles.

Eventually there was not a scratch of clothing on him, the purple bruises and reddened welts striping his body as he reclined on the rock in the cool night air. He basked in the quietness and serenity of the scenery before opening his eyes as the woman's hands landed upon him again. Only looks were exchanged as she cradled him against her and helped him over to the glistening pool of water. He slipped into the refreshing water with a contented, heavy exhale; casting ripples out into the still water and disturbing the perfect reflection of the vast moon on its sparkling surface. Resting against the side of the rocks, letting his arms drift out in front of him and marvel at the patterns they made upon the darkened depths of the pool, he let out a few more guttural moans as the refreshing water unearthed his wounds and cleansed him of the day's dirt and grime.

"Won't you be joining me?" He asked roguishly as he rolled his head back to find the woman knelt behind him, massaging his shoulders.

She studied him for a few brief moments; noting the return of the wicked gleam in his eloquent eyes, but still seeing past his vain attempts at hiding his weariness and pain.

"I find myself not appropriately dressed for the occasion." She whispered against his ear playfully and received an impish grin in return.

"Well perhaps I should help you…" He replied, beginning to turn himself around in the water but she stilled him and turned him back.

"Let the water cleanse you." She insisted and smiled to herself as he obeyed her quiet order and relaxed again into the chill lucidity of the pool, closing his eyes and letting his senses take control.

He heard her dress drop to the floor behind him, his mind melting into a puddle of memories, desires and fantasies. The cool water licked up her milky legs as she slid down into the water beside him; her silky smooth skin barely brushing him but causing an undeniable reaction within him. After a few moments of stillness apart from the noise of the forest at night and the churning of the small waterfall over the rocks, the warrior opened his eyes slowly to find the woman in front of him. Her raven curls just touched the water around her chest and the ends of her silken locks floated just upon the surface. A creamy hand reached out, trickling water down his chest and enticing a soft groan from the wanton Knight. Another gentle hand joined the first in washing from his neck down to his chest where the water lapped lazily over his aching muscles. She could see the dark marks through the sheerness of the pool. They adorned his skin in some twisted beauty and she couldn't stop herself from running her fingers over the mauve and black blotches. He groaned and wrenched her hand away, bringing it back above the water in his grasp and he stared intently at the mischievous and fascinated smile that graced her lips and set her blue eyes alight. Brown battled blue as they stared at one another, seemingly gauging the other's actions and levels of passion and desire until she surprised him by tracing her finger along the bridge of his nose and down to the tip. Thumbs brushed over his eyelids and forehead as she circled his cheekbones and drew her palms all the way down to reach the scratchy texture of his beard on his chin. His hand dropped from her wrist, hitting the water with a muted splash and he tilted his head back as she ran her hands through his thick curls. A deft jerk brought a hiss of pleasure and pain mixed together from him and the temptress closed her eyes in bliss to hear him. She enjoyed his pain, this much he knew from numerous times before, but she also delighted in his pleasure too. Her head was titled backwards up to the sky as he leant forward and claimed her mouth with his in a tender but heated kiss. Lips moved against lips, moans entwined with moans, skin brushed against skin as they continued in increasing the intensity and passion of the kiss until finally they had to draw back and gasp for breath. Her hands once again trailed down to his bruises and lingered over the blackening marks, yet her eyes never moved from his as they exchanged steady, passionate stares. Slowly, she began to untangle herself from his arms and drift out deeper into the pool; sending ripples spreading out into the still waters. He watched silently as the glowing figure swam softly through the water. Her movements disturbed its dark depths only a little and she appeared like a swan as she floated in the mothering embrace of the shimmering waters. His breath caught at the sheer grace of her body, droplets of shining coolness trickling down the fair silk others called skin, and making her appear like some mysterious and enchanted water nymph from the fairytales. To him she was beautiful, elegant, alluring…enchanting. His.

The same slender hand grasped his again and ghosted them towards the hut, taking the heap of clothes with them and setting them down within the comforting warmth of the hut as they stepped in. Now instead of a crisp exposure to the forest, the Knight was welcomed by the inviting warmth of a stoked fire and shaggy furs scattered across the floor. He spread himself out on one as his companion flitted about the hut; gathering small bowls, herbs, a cloth and water. She seemed to not notice her obvious nudity and the admiring Knight allowed himself to watch her perfect frame from beneath heavy-lidded eyes and dampened curls. Her raven curls stretched down to graze her middle back, swaying gently as she moved and the Knight let his eyelids slowly close as he tried to remember the feel of those curls within his hands as he loved her.

They were silent as she tended to his wounds. His eyes never left her's, and although she could feel his hot-blooded gaze on her every movement she continued in concentrating upon his wounds and bandaging them up against infection as he settled back amongst the furs. Only once did she elude herself of control, pressing down upon one especially painful and tender wound and earning herself a guttural groan from the Knight. He had opened his dark eyes in time enough to see her body tense in desire and her teeth to bite upon her lip as she battled her hunger for him. He needed no smirk now, not even one of his famous smiles as he would use around the other Knights and whores of the fort. No. Now all he needed was a slight smile and expressive eyes, to let all of his many barriers down that had gradually grown ever since he had been taken from Sarmatia all those years ago, and to just be him. That was all his lover really yearned for.

He had lost himself to her naught but a year ago. Her ways were strange to him and at first he had wondered what he had got himself caught up in; until he realised she was just like him – tormented and abandoned. She hid it well though, she was stronger than him and she liked living alone in the forest. But he had found something in her which drew him to her, some unknown calling. At first he would not break. He would not give himself to her; no not the image he had created around everyone else, but the real him. Her fascination with battle and death had led to her breaking him the only other way she knew he could be broken…by force. Why he had let her beat him, he did not know. Perhaps he wanted her to beat him, to coax out his inner self and let it breathe the fresh air, see the radiant moonlight and listen to the whisperings of the trees. But she had beaten him well and had enjoyed it seemingly. There was always an enigmatic spark that lit up her eyes. She had taught him how to find pleasure from his pain. He had much pain but now he felt it more as something to tame and rejoice in rather than brood over and loathe. She was his pain and his pleasure, his night and day, his hell and heaven. Dying would not be such a bad thing now that he knew the dark ways of his night child. His.

Butterfly kisses were pressed to his skin as she watched him sleep. Dark eyes fluttered open groggily and met glacial pools. Her body was pressed to his amongst the furs; the dancing flames of the fire creating mystical shadows upon the wall of the hut and tracing fiery paths across their entwined bodies. The pain was less now. Many times after battle he would come to her, and she would wait for him. They had some unspoken agreement; no witty remarks or heartfelt speeches of devotion were needed, only themselves. Often he found himself stealing into the forest and watching her in the clearing of a daytime; cleaning her hut, embroidering a new dress, washing her clothes in the pool. She was always in his mind and yet they were comfortable with the present arrangement. It had shocked him to hear her so protective tonight, he had never expected her to be so passionate about his life…but didn't he love her just the same?

Gentled as she lay dozing upon his chest, her hand splayed lightly across the bandages and her hair drifting over his taut skin, Lancelot sighed and pulled her tighter to him.

They had found pleasure in his pain once again.

* * *

_A/N: I have been attacked by one heck of a plot bunny lol. It is hmm...4 days before I start my mock GCSEs, I have done very little revision as its hard to when you really aren't in the right frame of mood, and then this came along and I just had to get it allout lol. I quite liked it being all mysterious and unknown and I wonder if any of you thought it was Lancelot. I thought I'd put his name towards the end just to give you a pointer as I wanted you to know who I was actually describing, and if you were thinking Bors...well...you were just a tad off weren't you? lol. Tell me what you think of this rather confusing and dark fic, hehe very enjoyable to write and very much my style lol. Give me any suggestions, comments, anything - all comments are valued and probably happy-danced to if they're nice! Thanks for reading! xx_


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